


What Percy Jackson Did

by robindrake93



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Book 5: The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson), Death, Gen, Mercy Killing, POV Third Person, War, the battle of manhattan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28874523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robindrake93/pseuds/robindrake93
Summary: Chris bears witness to the Battle of Manhattan
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	What Percy Jackson Did

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this bouncing around in my head for so long, how Percy specifically mentions that he was "trying not to kill demigods" while fighting in the Battle of Manhattan...yet he has no problem killing Michael Yew and was so out of it while fighting that he didn't even notice he'd summoned a hurricane. I'll forever maintain that Percy Jackson has the highest kill count in the series and has slaughtered many, many demigods. 
> 
> Don't reupload/repost my fics.

Christopher Rodriguez had never seen Percy Jackson fight before the Battle of Manhattan.

The only time he’d even seen Percy with a sword in his hand was the kid’s first week at Camp Half-Blood five years ago. He vividly recalled how Percy had managed to disarm Luke. It was only one time but it had left an impression on everyone watching. 

Chris remembered the obsessive way that Luke had trained Percy after Poseidon claimed him. That had been something that the camp watched in their peripherals. Anytime anyone tried to openly watch, Luke would snarl at them to go away. 

It still surprised Chris that Luke put so much work into Percy’s sword fighting but never tried to recruit him. 

When they split from Camp Half-Blood, Luke wouldn’t let anyone fight Percy. “Let the monsters fight him. Or me. But you demigods _stay away_ from him at all costs.” 

Chris never understood. No one really did. They all thought that Luke had a soft spot for Percy. 

But now, years later, when the streets of Manhattan became a battlefield, Chris got it. Oh, he understood perfectly what Luke had been protecting them all from. Because anything going against Percy Jackson had no chance of survival. And if by some bad luck, he didn’t kill you, then he left you in such a bad state that you’d wish you were dead. 

Percy Jackson stood in his own hurricane, a buffet of wind and rain and swirling debris that obliterated everything around it. He was so fierce, attention focused solely on the titan Hyperion, that he didn’t notice even his own side kept well away from him. 

Monsters dissolved into clay that sank into the earth. The ground was littered with body parts that were grotesque trophies. The demigods who got caught in his hurricane were not as lucky as the monsters. They were swept off their feet, tossed away like dolls, impaled with debris, and drowned or halfway there. Their bodies did not dissolve, but lay crumpled and soggy like so much unwanted trash. 

Chris watched this from the protection of a building, unable to fight for either side. He did not want to bear witness to this carnage but someone had to. Someone who would tell it as it happened and not glorify what either side was doing. 

The night before, Kronos went to taunt Percy and scare the Olympian’s forces. A lot of demigods died; mostly by Kronos’ hands and by the hands of the centaurs. But there was one death that shook the survivors, even the ones on Kronos’ side. Percy destroyed the bridge...and killed Michael Yew, a demigod on his own side. Before this, no one thought that Percy would indiscriminately kill demigods. 

They thought that Luke was being soft when he told them that if they found themselves face to face with Percy in a fight, it was safer to run. They thought that he was trying to protect Percy. After all, wasn’t Ethan Nakamura proof that Luke was wrong? He and Percy fought and Percy refused to kill him. 

Chris now knew that this was different. 

_Percy_ was different. He had bathed in the River Styx, Chris could see it as plainly as if his Achilles’ curse glowed as brightly as Hyperion’s armor. Even as Percy let the hurricane die and the Olympian demigods retreated, Percy still fought. Watching him move, Chris could see Luke in the flow of his body and the swiftness of his sword. One week of intense training and this was the result; an unstoppable killing machine. 

Luke must have known. That was why he warned them, for years, not to let themselves get into a fight with Percy. Every new recruit got the same lecture...at least, while Luke was able to give lectures. After Kronos took over his body, Luke became nothing more than a headache for the titan. And Kronos was more than willing to encourage his demigod honor guard to march to their deaths. 

The saddest part of it, Chris reflected as he watched Percy fight even as they were backed to the Empire State Building, was that Percy was probably trying _not_ to kill demigods. Using the hilt of his sword to bash in helmets and skulls would normally knock a demigod out...except that Percy had Achilles curse and Percy was powerful even for a demigod. 

Chris recalled back to that first week, Percy’s first game of capture the flag. Percy had been ambushed by the Ares kids and dented one of their helmets. It wasn’t just the helmet that had been dented, it was also the boy’s skull. Right over the soft spot he’d had as a baby. The boy never recovered fully. He was quietly sent home, Chiron swept it under the rug, and everyone avoided Percy the best they could. 

At the time, Percy had only had _one_ sword fighting lesson. Afterward, Luke had trained him from sunup to sundown, day after day. 

It didn’t help that Percy had a sharp tongue, that it was made of coaxing silver and his words were shadows that dug into your mind. And his green eyes, luminescent like sea glass under a light. He had eyes that seemed to bore into your soul and eek out all the soft parts of you. One look from Percy Jackson was like being flayed open. The son of Poseidon was more unnerving than anyone liked to admit. 

So yes, when it came to Percy Jackson, dead was better, Chris now knew as he ran from body to body. The worst of the fighting had moved into the lobby of the Empire State Building so it was safe enough to be out in the open. 

Almost all of the fallen were demigods who had joined Kronos. Most of them were dead. Slain demigods. They were drowned or ripped apart or impaled. A lot of them had head wounds, dents where their skulls were crushed in by the hilt of a sword. Chris wondered if Percy had tried to spare them or if he was really that monstrous. 

Chris finally found a live one. A daughter of Hecate, laying flat on her back and choking on the water in her lungs. Her long hair was wet and thin. 

Chris rolled her onto her side and blanched. Stuck in her spine about halfway down her back was a piece of debris, some sort of wood. It left her paralyzed from the waist down. “Hang on,” he said, getting a grip on the debris and pulling it out. 

Blood poured from the wound. The girl cried and choked and sputtered up pink water. She did not move her legs, though her hands scrambled against the wet concrete. 

Chris grabbed his canteen of nectar but by the time he had the lid off, the girl was no longer choking or crying. She was dead. He bowed his head, closed her blank eyes, and sent a silent prayer that her afterlife would be a good one. Then he got to his feet and went to the next body. 

A boy this time, one of the unclaimed. His helmet had been hit so hard that there was a four inch dent where it crushed his skull. He lay on the ground groaning in pain and drooling uncontrollably. There was shockingly little blood. Nectar wouldn’t fix that. 

What would Luke do? 

Put him out of his misery. 

Chris drew his sword from its sheath. In one clean swing, he decapitated the demigod. The drooling stopped. As with the daughter of Hecate, Chris closed the boy’s eyes and said a prayer. He didn’t even know who he was praying to. Anyone who would listen at this point, he supposed. 

Chris walked among the dead and dying. There were very few demigods he could save. Out of the twenty-six in the area, only one actually healed from their wounds and she continued to lay on the ground and sob even after her skin knit back together and her bones righted themselves. The ones that hadn’t died yet but were beyond saving, Chris euthanized. Maybe some would call it cold, but Chris didn’t see a point in making them suffer. 

Overhead, lightning flashed across the sky. It had been cloudy for days, thick black clouds that blocked out all light. Now, it seemed, the storm had broken. Lightning raced across the clouds and thunder roared so loudly and continuously that Chris could feel it in his chest. 

Chris looked up at the sky, at the lightning flashing angrily in black clouds, and wondered who was winning. The main battle had gone into the Empire State Building with monsters and demigods vying for control of the elevator to Olympus. Surely some of them had reached Olympus. Percy, most likely. And Annabeth, who had attached herself to Percy like a leech since the kid showed up at camp. 

Everyone knew that Annabeth wanted to go on a quest that would make her famous. No one blamed her for that. But no one particularly liked it, either. Annabeth was cold, ruthless, and would do anything to achieve the glory she felt she was owed. They were a match made in Tartarus. Though now, Chris wondered which one of them was the real monster. 

Chris wasn’t sure who he wanted to win. Looking at it now, both Kronos and the Olympians were terrible. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to fight. He wasn’t sure which side he would fight on anymore anyway, and someone had to take care of these wounded demigods. The monsters would only eat the dead if they weren’t so occupied with fighting. 

He moved from body to body - inching closer to the Empire State Building while avoiding it at the same time - trying to pour nectar down throats when he thought it would help. It rarely did. Demigods were sturdy but only when compared to mortals; they could still do terrible damage to each other. 

Something hit the ground beside him. Red splattered everywhere in a spray and there was a massive crack like the breaking of many twigs all at once. Chris about jumped out of his skin. He stared at the thing that used to be a demigod. The face was ruined beyond recognition. All of its limbs had come undone at the joints like a ball jointed doll. The insides were expelled through the abdomen from the force of falling out of the sky and hitting concrete. 

There was no saving that one. 

Chris looked up again, fear curling in his heart. Whatever was happening up there was bad. He prayed that there would be no more bodies raining down. Just thinking about the possibility made Chris shiver. 

Movement in the corner of Chris’ eye. Someone shuffling toward him. Slow. Bipedal. Then Alabaster was there, clutching his ribs and soaked through like everyone else. But he was on his feet. He stopped beside Chris. 

For a few heartbeats they just stared at each other, waiting to be attacked. 

Finally, Alabaster gestured to the carnage around them. Tears tracked down the right side of his face. Blood tracked down the left. “Kronos has been scattered to the winds. I can’t say I’m sorry about that. But Luke is dead.” 

Chris’ throat tightened. Luke was dead. They always knew it would happen because when he found out he was going to be hosting Kronos, Luke had sat them all down and explained that he would never walk away from this alive. One way or another, Luke was going to die. Grief stung Chris’ heart but it was only mildly stronger than what he felt for all the other fallen demigods that he’s been training beside for the past three years. “Was it Jackson?” Chris asked, though he didn’t expect Alabaster to know since they were up there and Alabaster was down here. 

Alabaster took a slow breath through his nose. He made a noise at the back of his throat like he was in pain. “You saw him. If anyone could defeat Kronos, it would be him.” He sounded angry and grief stricken. More than anyone else, Alabaster had believed in Luke’s cause and Luke’s power. So much so that he had been trying to find a way for Luke to remain alive after Kronos burned through his body. 

Chris held out his canteen of nectar. 

Alabaster took it and drank the rest. As the nectar ran through him, Alabaster stood up straighter and dropped his hand from his ribs. His side was stained red. He handed the empty canteen back. 

“What are you going to do?” Chris asked. 

“I’m going to hunt him down and kill him if it’s the last thing that I ever do,” Alabaster swore. He didn’t bring up the Styx but his words sounded somehow binding. There was magic in his voice. “Percy Jackson won’t live to regret what he’s done.” Then Alabaster laughed and gestured again to the death that Percy had left in his wake. “Look at what he did. He’s worse than a monster. And he needs to be put down.” 

Chris didn’t ask how Alabaster was planning on killing Percy. He didn’t particularly care. Rain suddenly poured down from the sky, soaking them both and washing the blood into the Manhattan’s gutters. 

Alabaster shook his head. He walked away into the night, alone and hurting but not yet defeated. 

As Alabaster walked past him, Chris quietly said, “Good luck.”

**Author's Note:**

> The demigod who fell from the sky and broke apart is in fact Ethan. If you've never seen a body hit the ground from high up...well...now you've read a description so now you know.


End file.
